


Among Us

by entanglednow



Category: Lost
Genre: M/M, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-12
Updated: 2010-04-12
Packaged: 2017-10-14 15:26:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/150738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes things are less complicated than they should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Among Us

Richard knows Jacob is happier observing the world than changing it, or affecting it. There's much about him which doesn't feel right. But, he's not as remote as Richard first assumed. Not as distant, or as strange, and whether he's truly a man or not, he can be one in the ways that count.

Of all the things Jacob has asked of him. He's never once asked for this. Richard's not entirely sure they've ever even spoken of this. Or if they've left it instead some strange and unquestioned aspect of their lives. He remembers the first time he touched Jacob, near the beginning. Maybe he thought it was expected, or perhaps Jacob had looked at him too long and too sharply to be mistaken for anything else. Whichever it was, Jacob responded. He gave Richard his permission, his interest, then and since.

He never says no when Richard offers.

But, Jacob has never asked.

Jacob lets Richard slide his clothes free, lets him show his appreciation, his gratitude, with a curious sort of acceptance. As if, perhaps he thinks Richard _needs_ this and it's in his power to provide it. So, Richard ends up over him, pressed to the warmth of him, next to the flare and burn of the fire. With his hands on bare skin, kissing the soft, curious line of Jacob's mouth and easing his thighs open. Before sliding down between them.

Richard ends up listening to the barely-there noises of interest that Jacob makes when he makes him react like a man. When he makes him harder, with every slow wet slide of his mouth. For all that the catches and presses of Jacob's fingers, at his shoulders and hair, are never quite as demanding as Richard wants.

They're not always alone either. The night often brings company through the jungle.

The hands that slide up Richard's back, the fingers that dig and press in his hair, are not Jacob's. They belong to the other. Esau. Not so much an enemy, it seems, as the devil Jacob knows. He is not so remote. He is greedy and not at all afraid to demand. To push Richard, and he seems ever more amused when Richard doesn’t refuse, or turn away, or break.

There's hunger in the hard push against the back of his neck, and the soft, low noise of appreciation when Richard does as he's told, goes where he's pushed. He encourages Richard to go faster, to take Jacob deeper, a messy wet shove that leaves him digging his fingers into Jacob's warm thighs, tight with arousal, lips pressing down against his curled fingers - until they're dragged away too and it's just the heat of his mouth and the heavy stretch of Jacob's cock. It slides in too far, and he's groaning helplessly. Making wet, obscene noises and trying to take more.

Until fingers catch in his hair, drawing him off and up on his knees, bent back into the solid weight of the other man, the flare of his breath bursting hot against his throat. The burning heat of his cheek pressing against his own.

Esau is the unpredictable one, the quiet, manipulative, vicious one. But Jacob always gives him what he wants, and Richard's still not sure why. Though he has never protested in turn and maybe that's because where Jacob never quite wants - the other wants enough for them both.

He's greedy and furious with it.

Jacob watches him now, his gaze flicking between them.

Richard watches him back through half-open eyes, breathes heavy, wet desire and listens to the thud of his own heartbeat. He waits, just waits in that fierce too-tight grip, to be told what to do. Esau's fingers are twisted tight enough to burn in his hair, dragging his head back and baring his throat. While the other hand curves round his jaw, thumb easing his mouth open, lips still bruised from the greedy shift and push of Jacob's cock.

"You want to continue?" Esau asks. His voice is a throaty growl that sounds like a living thing.

"Yes," Richard chokes out, swallows and breathes and _aches_ under the pressure on his neck. Jacob's still watching him, watching them both, the warmth of his thigh flexing against the curve of Richard's waist. The fire makes him look strange and unreal, eyes darker under his hair than they should be. His hand stretches against his own bare skin and Richard thinks, for one brief instant, that he might reach down and touch himself. It makes his next inhale slide in ragged and loud.

Richard swallows, forces down the broken hitch of his own breath when he's pulled back, just for a second, long enough to feel the line of hardness behind him. Interest, or intent. Or a reminder that he has a purpose, for the other man at least.

"Put your mouth back on him." The command is low and deep against his ear.

He's released, left to fall forward again and Jacob is just a little greedy for once, encouraging him closer and tugging his mouth open to slide himself in again.

Richard spreads his legs, wordlessly, when Esau lays a hand in the middle of his spine, fingers digging in warm and hard. The dark material of his shirt flutters to the sand. Jacob has slowed, and Richard knows he's watching what Esau is doing, watching the way his hands flatten on Richard's back, the way he tilts his hips and presses wet fingers inside him. Richard steadies himself under the careless but expected push and stretch.

Jacob reacts to Richard's soft, hitched groan of discomfort. To the vibration around the weight of his cock, which slides free just long enough for Richard to draw a shuddering breath of air.

"Should I take him easy or fuck him hard?" It's a lazy curious question.

Richard doesn't look up to see what expression Jacob's wearing. To see what that growl of words does to his face. He's already shaking under the steady shove of fingers, too quick and too deep but still not enough. Not enough for what Esau is intending, what he obviously wants.

Judging by the low throaty laugh the other gives, Jacob has reacted in some way, answered somehow. Richard's hips are tilted back, one rough, intent movement and he lets it happen, lets it all happen, always.

It's a solid, uncomfortable push, hard and relentless and he's still shaking when the other man is seated all the way inside him.

"You don't fuck him enough," Esau says roughly. "He's always like a vice."

Richard groans under the words. He isn't entirely sure if that's complaint or not, because the dig of fingers is sharp and greedy, the rough slide back and in is hard enough that Jacob lifts a hand and braces his shoulder.

There's a grunt of appreciation and then _weight_.

Richard's breathing hard through his nose, fingers sliding on Jacob's thighs. Trying to hold himself there, trying not to choke.

Esau buries himself again while Jacob ruins his mouth, hips working now in uncertain but intent shoves. Richard is owned as completely and totally as it's possible to be, rocking between them, a dizzy mess of lust and hard edges, with not enough space to breathe.

The shove-drag of Esau's cock inside him, and the wet slide of his own mouth down onto Jacob, are ragged and ill-timed. But that just seems to make it sharper and harder, more obscene. It shoves him ever-closer to the edge.

Esau's fingers dig in his hair again, push his head down. The hard slide of Jacob's cock goes deep, deep enough to ache, to make every breath awkward - Jacob makes a noise like it hurts, a low punched sound that Richard's never heard from him. Then Jacob's hands are in his hair too, tangling round the other's in one fierce twist. One quick, untidy press in, a fraction too hard. The back of Richard's mouth and his tongue are wet, a jerk of heat and bitterness that he's left swallowing, lips numb when Jacob slips free. But they don't let him go. They keep him there while the other man buries himself in a handful of rough thrusts and comes.

Richard groans his way through his own release, mouth open on the softness of Jacob's stomach, teeth in the skin, the plane of his face too hot there. Gasping and murmuring words that are either plea or protest when the man inside him doesn't stop, leaving him twitching and aching and mad, for long drawn-out seconds.

Richard's left sprawled over Jacob's thighs, breathing through the soreness of his mouth. There are fingers in hair and he can't tell who they belong to.


End file.
